The Grayce Walters Romantic Suspense Series

by Jacki Delecki

  “Rasputin is here, and he’s one very unhappy cat.”

  “Give me a minute before you bring that charmer in.”

  Grayce flashed on the Russian connection—maybe this was a good omen.

  * * *

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Grayce stared at the long line of cars ahead of them.

  “God, I hate I-5.” James eased his red Beamer into the northbound merge lane. “The one time I’m legal in the carpool lane, and I’m stuck tailing Davis’ boss. Grayce, you and Mitzi better be right about Maclean.”

  “James, it’s a hunch, just a hunch.” She didn’t have any way of processing her otherworld information into a practical approach.

  “Definitely beats Monday night football,” he said.

  “This is insane. We’re following an assistant chief on a vision from a French poodle?” The sensible thing would be to disclose the threats, the visions, and her premonitions to Davis. She had been down this path after Cassie’s death, and she didn’t want to repeat the painful experience.

  “Would you be happier if it were from a pit bull? How about a Rottweiler? Any messages from Chihuahuas lately?”

  This wasn’t the first time her inner-world collided with the workings of the outer-world, but it was the first time Grayce needed to use her inner-world abilities to protect a human and she wasn’t sure how to proceed.

  “Okay, this is crazy. You should be home with your hot new boyfriend. Is that what you want me to say?”

  “Yesterday, following Maclean sounded pretty reasonable. Now, it feels too weird.”

  “Honey, stop. What do you want to listen to? Pretend we’re on a road trip. Remember the time we went down the Oregon Coast.” James began to run through the music selection on his iPhone.

  “James, please watch the road. Let me pick the music.”

  “No way, I’d have to listen to some soothing flute music.”

  Grayce willed herself to relax and leaned into the leather seats. “What did Hollie tell you while I was seeing my last patient?”

  “Maclean lives in Magnolia, with a wife, a son, and daughter. The picture she found was from years ago, looked like a 1950’s Leave it to Beaver perfect family. Republican, hates gays.”

  “You got that all from a photo?” She asked.

  “Everything but the Republican.”

  “Where was the picture of him from?”

  “Seattle Times. He was receiving a citizenship award from the mayor.”

  “That isn’t helping.”

  “Oh my God!” James shouted.

  “What?”

  “Praise the Lord. Traffic is moving.”

  James turned up Madonna’s Express Yourself and began to gyrate. This felt like a usual car trip with James, except for the fact they were spying on one of Seattle’s most model citizens. James trailed several cars behind Maclean’s green Ford Explorer. Like most commuter evenings in Seattle, the freeway looked like something out of a B-movie with everyone trying to escape a city taken over by space invaders or Godzilla.

  “Is he going to take a ferry?” James asked when they approached the Whidbey Island Ferry exit. “No ferry.”

  “What if he’s heading to Vancouver? We’re not going to follow him all the way to British Columbia. Let’s agree to stop at some point,” Grayce said.

  James continued to move side to side, dancing. “The Outlet Mall. I knew this evening would turn out great. We’ll stop at the mall. I’ve only been there once, but you can find some great deals.” James tweaked her knee. “Come on, admit it, you love to shop.”

  “You know I hate to shop.”

  “Let’s find you some sexy underwear for your next date. How about red for the firefighter?”

  She felt the familiar flush on her cheeks. “I guess I could look around.”

  “When will you be seeing the hunk again?”

  “I’m making dinner for him on Thursday. He made me dinner last night.”

  “Gorgeous and cooks. God, the guy’s a keeper.”

  “He doesn’t really cook, he grills.”

  “He wanted to lure you to his place to have his wicked way with you.” James raised his eyebrows. “No matter what, we’ve got to get you some new lingerie.”

  The traffic thinned when they got past Everett.

  “My God, he’s actually going to the Outlet Mall.”

  She was in no mood to be amused. Spying on Maclean, spying on anyone felt wrong.

  James followed Maclean down the curving exit. They were two cars behind. She slid down in her seat, trying to hide. There was a long line of cars, all waiting to get to the destination discount shops, Tulalip Casino, and a high-rise hotel.

  “The Tulalips developed the American dream—gambling, entertainment and discount shopping. Did you hear me say the part about discount shopping?” James was almost drooling.

  “The revenge of the modern red man on their invaders,” she said.

  “Grayce Walters, I’m shocked. You almost sounded cynical and completely politically incorrect. You sounded like me.”

  “I wasn’t criticizing the Tulalip Tribe. They’re known to be very generous, donating a lot of money to charities.”

  “He’s turning into the casino parking lot.” James said.

  They followed Maclean to the parking lot of the gigantic brick casino.

  “So let’s take bets. What do you think he plays?” James asked.

  “Roulette, Black Jack?” She asked.

  “Looks like the assistant chief is a gambler,” James said.

  “I was having trouble believing he was a family man.”

  “He’s getting out, taking off his officer’s jacket. You stay in the car, and I’ll follow him,” James said.

  “What?”

  “He knows you.”

  “I’m not letting you go in there alone. Something could happen,” she said.

  “Yeah, I can get a drink and lose some money. I think it’s what usually happens at a casino.” James turned off the car.

  She put her hand on James’ arm. “I’m going in. It’s a big place. I can watch him without being seen. And if he sees me, I’ll pretend I don’t recognize him.” Goosebumps of repulsion ran up and down her skin at the idea of being seen by Maclean.

  James rolled his eyes, fluttering and flitting as only a drama queen can. “All right, Nancy Drew, let’s go.” He put his arm around her shoulders.

  Entering the casino, she stepped into an alien world. The massive dark space flashed with shards of light, and vibrated with a repetitive sound and the low hum of voices. Music played in the background as if to the rhythm of the slots.

  The place was mobbed on a Monday night. Lost in a world of immediate gratification, hordes of dazed women and men played the shiny machines. Grayce felt breathless, claustrophobic. The energy in the room was suffocating, desperate.

  Maclean walked directly to the back of the deep building. His step was purposeful. He had been here before.

  “Let’s go see where he’s headed,” James said.

  They walked slowly, stopping, pretending interest in the slot machines that lined the room. Traces of smoke lingered.

  James sniffed the air. “I forgot you can smoke here. I like these sleuthing jobs.”

  She couldn’t keep up the banter. The tension of pursuing Maclean and the sensory overload of the casino had drained her.

  As though sensing they were trailing him, Maclean turned and looked back. She slipped behind James, as James turned toward the wall with a disinterested expression and began to whistle. How lame! He was going to make them for sure.

  When Maclean didn’t rush them or angrily demand what they were doing, James zeroed in on their quarry again. “He’s going into the VIP room. Guess I’ll be joining him.”

  “The what?”

  “The room that separates the real men from the wannabes. It’s just for the high-stakes gamblers.”

  “How are you going to get in there?”

  �
�Through the entrance.” James smiled down at her. “Go play the slots. If you sit right over there, you can keep an eye on me and Maclean.”

  “But what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to gamble, watch our man, see how much he bets. You know—the typical James Bond stuff.”

  She tried to think of an argument against his plan. She grabbed his arm. “James, don’t talk to Maclean.”

  “The gamblers in the VIP room aren’t in there to be social. Don’t worry so much. Nothing’s going to happen.”

  James prodded her, pointing her toward the slot machines that faced the exclusive lounge. “You can watch from there.”

  The monotonous noise of the slots and the artificial light disturbed her. The imbalance of energy in the gambling space and their pursuit of Maclean agitated her. “This feels wrong. I don’t want you to gamble with Maclean.”

  “Give me a signal, and I’ll come out. Honestly, I’ll just play for twenty minutes, half an hour. Come on, you wanted to know about this guy. We’re here. Let’s do it.”

  James, impeccably dressed in a tailored pea coat, a cashmere scarf knotted at his neck, belonged in the VIP lounge. Her North Face polar fleece and ponytail clearly said slots.

  She didn’t know if you had to buy tokens to play the slot machines. She sat at the machines which gave her a clear view of the VIP lounge. A gray-haired woman in white tennis shoes was settled in the same cluster of machines. Grayce peeled off her coat and sat down, avoiding eye contact with the older woman.

  “Gonna try your luck with that one, Darlin’?” The older woman’s hoarse voice cracked with a hacking cough.

  “Going to try.” Grayce inspected the machine. Did it come with instructions?

  “You a virgin?”

  Had the woman just asked her if she was a virgin?

  “Never played before?”

  Was she that obvious?

  “Just put in your money.” The woman leaned over to point to the lever.

  Grayce could see the woman’s pink scalp through her silver blue hair.

  “Pull the lever when it feels right. Listen to your inner voice.”

  “Thank you.” She hoped this would finish the gambling tutorial. She looked up to check on James. He was in the VIP room and moving toward Maclean’s table.

  Grayce shook her head. “No, James. No.” She waved, trying to get James’ attention.

  James turned toward her and nodded.

  The older woman asked, “You say somethin’, Darlin’?”

  “Just talking to my machine.” Grayce patted the metal contraption and smiled.

  She focused on James’ pursuit of Maclean. He was about to sit next to Maclean. She kept shaking her head. How did she get into this absurd situation?

  James took the only seat available. She nodded her head in approval. “Okay, James.”

  “What Darlin’? My name ain’t Jane.”

  “What?”

  “You just called me Jane.”

  Grayce suppressed a giggle. She put a token in the machine, turned and looked behind her. No one was there. She couldn’t rid herself of the nagging feeling someone was watching.

  James, with a cigarette in his hand, leaned toward an expensively dressed woman. He smiled, his striking angles softened with laughter. Grayce watched the older woman with heavy diamond earrings, taken in by his charm. “Oh, James.”

  “Darlin’, my name’s Betty, not Jane.”

  Had she spoken aloud again? Maybe the noise in here was making her lose her mind.

  James was talking to Maclean. When she got her hands on James, she would slowly strangle him. James laughed and slapped Maclean on the back. Maclean gave James a disgusted look.

  She leaned forward, breathless. “James.”

  The older woman muttered, “So young to be hard of hearing.”

  “I’m just praying to St. James.”

  Grayce then pointed to the exit. James gave her a slight nod and continued to play. His face was wreathed in a gigantic grin when he pulled the chips toward him. He had won. Her incorrigible friend gave her a thumbs up. She dropped another coin in her machine.

  A rough-looking man in a black suit and black shirt leaned over James. Her heart thudded to a stop. The gigantic neck and grim countenance didn’t belong to a waiter. He took James’ elbow and pulled him up. James resisted.

  “Please, James.”

  “You praying again?” Betty smiled at Grayce and then said aloud, “St. James give me a winner.” Betty then pulled the lever on her machine. Coins poured out of the machine while bright lights flashed and loud, brash music played. “Thank you, St. James.” Betty gathered her coins into her cup; her face flushed with excitement.

  Grayce, distracted by Betty’s win turned back to see James brush the burly man’s hands off. James didn’t appear to be the least bit intimidated. He took a drag on his cigarette, stubbed it out in the ash tray, turned and smiled at the older woman. Maclean, with a dark sneer, watched James.

  The man whispered to the disgruntled James who had an insolent smirk. The man took James’ elbow. James shrugged it off and walked out of the lounge. The bouncer grabbed James’ elbow and led him toward the exit past Grayce.

  “Sir, I don’t want to hurt you. You need to leave, no trouble. Don’t come back. We don’t tolerate cheating in this casino.”

  “Cheating?” James yelled. A few people turned. Most watched the machines, oblivious to anything but their hopes spinning against the odds.

  “Sir, you were counting cards. We watched you and your partner at the slot machines.”

  Her heart did a tailspin. She battled against her need to hide and her need to dash, to run to the nearest exit. Inching her way behind one of the machines, she searched for other exits. She wasn’t going to wait to be escorted out.

  “Get your hands off me, you big brute. You’re wrinkling my Burberry.” James’ theatrical voice was heard over the din. He was enjoying the drama.

  Unlike James, she didn’t want any drama, and she didn’t want Maclean to see her being escorted out. She walked to the side exit, her body tense, her muscles clenched, ready for flight. The blue domed ceiling, painted in a tromp l’oeil underwater fresco with cavorting salmon at the exit didn’t provide the intended relaxation. She felt like the salmon, soon to be caught and eaten by a grizzly bear.

  She anticipated footsteps behind her, a hand on her shoulder. But no one stopped her. Walking into the night air, a young man in a red jacket approached.

  “Ma’am, may I get your car?”

  “No, no, thank you.”

  Where was James? Had they arrested him?

  In the dim light of the parking lot, shadows danced around her. She crisscrossed the lot, as if searching for a lost car, in case anyone was watching her. The silence felt menacing after the metallic bings, boings and blips of the casino. She wound her way around the lot to the entrance of the casino. People stood in a line under the canopied entrance, waiting for the valet to return their cars, water fountains cascaded in front of giant cedar doors.

  Her cell phone rang. Startled, she had to squelch a scream.

  James’ voice was harsh, “Where are you?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m at the car.”

  She didn’t need her intuition. James was upset. “I’m coming. I came back to the entrance to look for you.”

  She took a different route through the parking lot back to the car. She climbed into the Beamer. “I thought they were going to arrest us.”

  “Arrest us?” James sniggered coldly. “For what?”

  “I don’t know. They thought we were counting cards. Isn’t that considered cheating?”

  “Let’s get the hell out of here.” James swerved between cars in the parking lot.

  She leaned back in the leather seat and tried to calm her friend. “Your nonchalance was priceless. And your line about your Burberry was great.”

  James stared straight ahead. She waited for James’
theatrical replay. He turned up the music. Lady Gaga blasted in the car.

  “Honey, tell me,” Grayce pleaded.

  “Let’s get to Meow. I need to be with my people.”

  James sped south to Capitol Hill.

  Tonight was another failure to gain evidence. All she had accomplished was to upset her friend. Twenty minutes later, they pulled up in front of James’ favorite bar.

  She placed her hand on his arm. “Once we go in there, you’ll be surrounded by your friends. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? It’s my fault you were there.”

  “It isn’t your fault that some big geek tried to manhandle me.”

  “But you looked so calm and cool.”

  “I had years to perfect that calm façade. It was the way I pissed my father off. He wanted to see me get manly and fight back.”

  “We shouldn’t have gone.”

  “Having a goon grab me brought back a few bad memories. It’s no big deal.”

  James had always hidden his childhood experience with snide, self-deprecating comments. This was the first time he had ever acknowledged how difficult it had been.

  “James. I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about. My father was a bastard, but I walked away from all of his bullshit years ago.”

  “Oh, honey. He never deserved you as a son.” Grayce squeezed James’ arm. She wanted to put her arms around him and hug him, but James wouldn’t welcome such an open display of affection.

  “Well, the good news is that he feels guilty now. He tries to buy me off.” James gave another hollow laugh. “It’s definitely a Grey Goose night, and it’s your tab. What else could I ask for?”

  Chapter Forty

  An unnatural cry jolted Grayce awake. Standing next to the bed, Mitzi howled an ungodly sound, the poodle pulled hard on Grayce’s wrist with her open mouth. Grayce sat up in bed. Dense smoke obscured her vision; hot air burned her throat and her nostrils. Fire!

  Mitzi gave another yank and then dropped to the floor and began to crawl on her stomach, directing Grayce to crawl, guiding her to safety.

  She had to call 911. Her phone was in the kitchen.